Blood Red
by Vaudvillian
Summary: As soon as the iron struck, he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. At first she thought he was just knocked out… that is, until she noticed the red beginning to pool around his head. (Nolan/DC Universe mix. Rated M for Violence and Language.)
1. Introduction: Time to Run

It had been two weeks since Fiona had last seen her mother.

Sure, her mother would disappear for a few days. Maybe a week at most. It was all part of the job, the life she chose to lead. It wasn't any of her business what her Mom did in dark, seedy hotel rooms. Quite frankly, Fiona was beyond caring. Besides, her mother's absences gave her an excuse to skip school.

Honestly, she had gone to school at first, but had quickly gotten tired of it. It was no secret to the rest of her classmates that her mother was a whore, and they teased her constantly for it. Eventually, she ran out of patience and simply stopped going. After a just few days at home, she went stir crazy. She soon discovered there was nothing to do in the cramped little apartment, so she would wander about the city. Careful, of course, to avoid the streets her mother 'worked.' It was only when she ran out of money, and then run out of food, did Fiona begin to wonder about her Mother's extended absence.

Luckily, nicking food wasn't all that hard. Backpacks were more trouble than they were worth, and they made you leave them by the counter anyway. Fiona would wander into a gas station and browse, stuffing what she could up her sleeves and in her pockets. Sometimes she would kneel down, pretending to tie her shoe, while shoving merchandise down her sock. Then she'd buy a beef jerky stick for fifty cents, to show that yes, she was actually going to buy something, and then hi-tail it out of there.

Her special five finger discount. Twenty items for the price of one! But slowly she got tired of junk food from the nearby gas stations and drug stores. After the thirteenth day, her gums began to ache, and she spent the last of what she had on bananas.

Fiona had been watching cartoons when the doorbell rang. Quickly switching off the television, she crept quietly to the door and moved the footstool in front of it. Standing on the stool, she peered through the peephole.

Police.

Another buzz and a sudden rap on the door nearly made her fall. Luckily, the height wasn't so great, and she hopped down. There were cops here. Two of them, and Fiona began to feel choking panic rise within her. Taking a deep breath, she forced her fear down. Moving the footstool off to the side again, she undid the deadbolt, but not the chain.

Opening the door a crack, she glanced out at the two officers standing there.

"Fiona Flemming?" The female officer asked, and Fiona's heart leapt into her throat again. She nodded in response and the woman looked relieved, "I'm Officer Callahan and this if my partner, Officer Harvey. Could you open the door? We need to talk to you about your Mom."

There it was. Perhaps she had been right to suspect. Two weeks was longer than her Mom had ever been away... Nodding absently, she closed the door, undid the chain, and let the officers in. It was Friday, but neither of them asked why she wasn't in school. Nor did they comment on the horrible mess that the apartment had slowly become. In fact, neither of them said anything for a while until Officer Harvey spoke up.

"Fiona, your mom, she's been gone for a while hasn't she?"

Fearing the worst, she nodded, twisting her hands together. Suddenly she wished that she hadn't let them in; that she'd stayed quiet and hid. She could have silently crept into one of the back bedrooms and waited until they'd gone away. They couldn't have just come in, could they? Didn't they have to have a warrant or something? But she'd gone and fucked it up, opened the door of her own free will.

Feeling betrayed, Fiona furrowed her brow and frowned at the police before her.

"Fiona," Callahan began, "I'm sorry to inform you, but your Mother has passed away. Gotham Police found her this morning, we have reason to suspect foul play…"

There was a sort of aching, hollow feeling in her chest and she didn't realize she was crying until Officer Harvey handed her a tissue from the kitchen table. So her mother was dead, murdered and thrown in the river like a bag of trash. They were right to suspect Snake. He'd been her mother's pimp for as long as she could remember. He was the reason she was gone for days on end, and likely, he had been the reason for her murder too. She'd come home with bruises before, not getting enough customers, some cash was missing from the count. But most of the time, Snake didn't need a reason.

When Officer Callahan sent her to her room to pack a bag, she walked in a daze down the hallway, and closed the door to her bedroom behind her. Fiona stood quietly for a moment, breathing deeply. Listening to the distant, mumbled talk of the police down the hallway.

They were going to send her away. Put her in a group home or a halfway house with a bunch of other kids and make her go to school. Ugh, school would be even worse than before. They'd assign her a case manager and stick her in special classes. Make her meet with a guidance counselor. Then they'd kick her out of the system once she turned eighteen.

That's when it occurred to her; she'd be on the street then anyway, what difference did it make if she was five years early?

Locking the door with a quiet click, she began to tear her room apart. Shoving on her sneakers first, she pulled her jacket on over her red sweatshirt. Dumping her backpack upside down, her old school papers fluttering noisily to the ground, she trampled them in her rush to escape. Filling the bag with whatever clean clothes were within reach, she grabbed her baseball hat from the bed, her pocket knife from the dresser, and went to the window.

She had one leg out into the open air when there was a knock at the door.

"Fiona? Are you alright? Do you need any help?"

Climbing out onto the fire escape, she'd descended quickly. There was a bang in her room and a shout from the window, but Fiona was already dangling from the bottom rung of the ladder. She jumped the last five feet to the ground, landing heavily, and began to sprint.

It was a long while later, when her breathing was ragged and her throat felt raw, that Fiona finally stopped. She wasn't used to running so fast and so far. Her route had taken her all the way across the Narrows, through alleyways and narrow side streets, darting through traffic, always looking over her shoulder. But she'd did it. She'd gotten away. Really, it was the river that had stopped her. There wasn't any farther to run, unless she crossed the bridge into the city. Letting her legs give out, she crumpled into a little heap on the boardwalk. Scooting backward a foot or two so that the Warehouse behind her was to her back, she tucked her legs up.

Gazing out across the river at Amusement Mile, she felt almost peaceful.

And then, burying her face in her lap, Fiona began to cry.


	2. Blood Red

As soon as the iron struck, he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. At first she thought he was just knocked out… that is, until she noticed the red beginning to pool around his head. The blood flowed at a sickening pace, steaming into the ice and snow. Fiona felt her stomach roil.

The piece of fence had been the first thing she'd grabbed, her frantic hands scrambling behind her in the snow as his hands closed around her neck. In a sudden burst of adrenaline, the iron heavy in her hand, she'd kicked him off and _swung_.

It was the first time she had killed anyone. Sure, she had gotten into a few fights here and there. Kids at school, at least, back when she had even bothered to go to school. Now it was rough gutter punks who didn't give a fuck, looking for a fight. But Fiona was quick, and she knew this city. Where to run, where to hide, where to sleep. Most street kids wandered from town to town, moving south when the weather turned too cold. Fiona was a Gothamite, born and raised and this was _her_ city.

"You're fine, you're fine. Everything's fine." She whispered, trying to comfort herself, "See? That wasn't so bad…" She took a stuttering step backwards as the blood seeped, bright red toward her sneakers.

Then, she leaned over, and quietly threw up into the snow.

When she was done, she wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve and ran.

It was cold, cold enough to see her own breath as she panted along. The worst of the winter was over now, with the snow melting way to ice and slush, but the nights were still chillingly cold. She sprinted along, footsteps splashing, for three or four blocks, then slowed to a jog. Fiona looked around her and did a mental calculation of her location. She was close to old Gotham now, if she continued south she would reach the river. Fiona glanced warily at the bit of wrought iron in her hand, she hadn't even realized she still had it. The tip was shiny and slick, dark hair matted into the blood.

Fiona gagged.

Luckily now, her stomach was empty.

It occurred to her that she should get rid of the evidence. Throw it in the river, where the water could wash away all trace of the accidental murder. Deaths often went unnoticed in this city, especially in the Narrows. Would the police even bother to investigate the murder or a known criminal? Some pedophile rapist? Maybe quick mention on the GCN, but people wouldn't care. Hell, they might even be glad. One less bad guy, right? The news anchor would switch to another story almost straight away. Something interesting, hard hitting stuff, like the Batman.

Remembering Batman, she looked up nervously, but there was nothing but frozen laundry swinging against the polluted sky.

"Just in case, best be quick about it…" She muttered, unzipping her jacket and tucking the bit of iron underneath, the gory end poking out grotesquely from the hem. If she held it carefully, it was hidden against the shadow of her leg.

There, Nobody would even notice unless they were really looking. Clutching the metal through the thin fabric of her jacket, she started off again, walking quickly south.

The streets were fairly deserted, and when the occasional car passed she slowed her pace to something more casual and bowed her head. Her face and hair hidden under the shadow of her baseball cap. Her heart was beating uncomfortably loud, and for a single, terrifying second she thought she saw a black shadow overhead. But when she looked, there was nothing there. Adrenaline and paranoia spurred her on, breaking into a jog every now and then and slowing back to a hurried walk. Anything to get there faster, anything to get rid of this bloodied thing in her hand.

When Fiona reached the river, she glanced quickly around, then threw the offending piece of metal as far as her arm would allow. Standing at the edge of the water for a while, she breathed deep and clutched the rusted railing to steady her shaking hands.

One thing was for sure, it was much different than the movies.

Gore didn't phase her. Whether it was blood or brains or guts. No matter how graphic the injury, she didn't so much as flinch. Fiona was a champion of horror and gore. But the smell of it, fucking hell. The _smell was what got to her. That wet, coppery stink was what made her sick. _

_Fiona watched blankly as a barge flowed silently down the river; red lights blinking at the bow and stern. She wondered idly if she was in shock. Dismissing the thought, she pulled back her sleeve and checked the cracked face of her watch. It was four now, she might have time for a quick nap before heading back up to Crown Point. She was doing work for Sam today, and probably would be doing work for him for the next week to get all those guns moved. It was a smart little operation they had, but it took forever. Groaning quietly, she rubbed at her eyes. After all that had happened, she really didn't feel like working today. Stooping, she washed her hands in the snow. Fiona managed to get most of the dirt and blood off, but her fingernails remained problematic._

"_Eh…" She inspected them, no blood at least, just dirt. "Good enough."_

_Cash was king, unfortunately. Fiona was hungry and in need of a good hot meal. She was tired of stolen gas station snacks and she didn't like to pick pockets unless she absolutely had to. Here was an easy job, all lined up with the promise of pay._

_The Batman had been intercepting Maroni's goods. Drugs, mostly. He hadn't got to any of the guns yet, but she knew Maroni would rather be safe than sorry. After Carmine Falcone had gone to Arkham, Maroni had taken over most of Gotham's illicit operations. He was ruthless, calculating. Smarter than Falcone had ever been. Maroni never touched the stuff, he had everyone else do his dirty work for him. He was a businessman, and he did whatever it took to keep his business running._

_That's where Fiona came in. Batman attacked their cars and trucks, cleared out their safe houses and marked their shipping containers. The Police had tails on their cars, watching their every move. The last person anybody would suspect was a kid. Or, that was the idea. There were a little team of them, five or six, depending on the day. They all knew each other, but could hardly be called friends. Each of them had been approached by Sam on the street. Fiona had been wary at first, but had quickly acclimated to the idea. There was a different route for each of them, moving a few weapons at a time, making their deliveries. Setting out into the streets with violin and guitar cases filled with guns and ammo._

_None of them had ever been caught, and they'd started moving things this way a little while after Maroni had taken over. Maybe two months ago? Yes, that was right, because it had been three months after the prison break and that freak gas leak in the Narrows. She'd never imagined herself leading a life of crime, but they paid them regular-like at the end of the day. Sometimes even fed them, pepperoni pizza or Chinese take-out from Lai-Lai's. They got money, some grub. They got their goods moved. It worked out for everyone._

_Taking the long way around to Crown Point, she pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her cap and zipped up her jacket again, trudging along with her hands in her pockets. It was an extra fifteen minutes of walking, but she didn't care, as long as she avoided that damn bloody alley. Sooner or later it would be crawling with police. Fiona would rather not have a run-in with the police at the present, thank you very much. The rest of Gotham was beginning to wake up too, apartment lights flickering to life as people began to get ready for the day._

_She started in shock when she noticed a prostitute on her way home, shivering and wobbling in her heels. It was Cherry. Her mother's old friend and coworker. Fiona quickly ducked her head and burrowed deep into her sweatshirt, embarrassed. There was no way she would recognize her, not like this. With her hair shoved up into her cap she looked like some dirty street boy. Thank god for her flat chest. It was dangerous to be a girl, especially here, like this. _

_Fiona would never sell herself. No, not like that. She wouldn't let herself be controlled by some pimp like her mother had been. Prostituting was just as, if not more dangerous, than living on the street. She wouldn't ever stoop to that, no matter how bad it got. And it had gotten pretty bad already._

_Luckily, she didn't need to. Now she had this smuggling gig. Nobody would hire her at thirteen, she knew that. The only hope she had for her own survival was odd jobs like this. Picking pockets was tricky and dangerous. If you were bad at it, even more so. And if you got caught they sent you to a group home or a youth center; sent you to school, assign you a case manager and a social worker. _

_Wrinkling her nose, she walked a little faster. They were liars, the lot of them. She knew how the system worked. At least on the streets you were free. You couldn't trust the police or the state. Maybe a long, long time ago, but not anymore. Not in Gotham. They were just as corrupt as the rest of the criminals. Only it was worse, they had power; they had the government behind them. With that, they could do whatever they wanted._

_Ducking into an alley along Points avenue, she jogged lightly down the dark alleyway. There was a window here, where the screws had been carefully removed from the barred cage, and the whole thing could be lifted up to expose the window beneath. Calvin had showed her this place. The kid was even younger than she was, twelve, and maybe the only person she really trusted. He had been living on the streets on and off his whole life thanks to his father. His father had a terrible drug habit. "Meth is a hell of a drug." He'd told her. Eventually, he had just gotten sick of it one day, and left. He had been on his own for a little longer than she had and had a special knack for finding little hiding places like this._

_This was the best one for winter, because the window opened up into the basement furnace room of the apartments. It was small, but it was safe and warm, and nobody ever came down there for maintenance. Who ever would, in a shit-hole like this? They called it the Burrow, because Fiona had likened them to weasels. Stealing rich stuff and hiding down here, building their little nest of pilfered goods. Calvin had asked where it was weasels lived, what their nests were called. She'd told him, and after that, it seemed only natural to refer to their little den as their 'burrow.' She lifted up the bars, opened the tiny painted window and shimmied herself through it, her toes reaching down for the chair placed underneath. Standing on the back slats of the chair, she moved the bars back in front of the window and shut it. _

"_Calvin?" she whispered, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. He usually greeted her as soon as he saw her legs dangling in. He must have left already to hit the morning crowd on their way to work. He'd explained to her some time ago that morning commuters were easier marks than those on their way home. People on their way to work were distracted, and they usually had more money with them. Nobody expects to be pick pocketed on their morning commute. Afternoon, maybe. Evening, yes. But never in the morning. Which was partially true. The smart criminals got things done in the early morning. Late night was dangerous, what with the bat about._

_She almost snorted, some bat. She'd killed a man not two hours ago and had seen no sign of any 'Batman.'_

_Fiona sighed, stretching in the warmth of the room, and checked her watch again. Sam told them to come at nine. That gave her three or four hours to nap before work. Climbing back behind the furnace into their shared nest of blankets, she kicked off her shoes and took off her baseball cap. Her ponytail tumbled free, her long auburn hair swinging down to her waist. Pulling out the hair tie, she braided her hair into one long plait, her thin fingers working nimbly against the strands._

_She couldn't stop thinking about that man._

_Mostly she remembered the blood, or at least the smell of it, and she gagged quietly. Maybe he wasn't dead after all, maybe he was just unconscious. Still, that had been an awful lot of red. Had it been too much? Had he bled out? If he hadn't bled out, had he succumbed to exposure? People could die out in the cold like that, couldn't they? No, he was definitely dead. Ding dong, dead._

_And she had been the one to do it._

_But, it wasn't like he had been a good person. He'd been following her for a good two blocks before he'd jumped her, dragging her into that alleyway. She'd underestimated him, and she wouldn't be making that mistake again. From a distance, he'd just looked like some junkie out looking for a fix. He had been awfully twitchy looking. _

_Though perhaps his paranoia had been from the nervousness that comes with a crime about to be committed._

_Fiona wondered vaguely if he'd even known she was a girl. There wasn't any way he could have really, even in the struggle, her hat hadn't come off. Her long hair was the only real indicator of her true sex. Some fucked up, rapist pedophile. At least if he was dead, Calvin would be a little safer. He was lot like her; with that soft, androgynous look that children often had. Thick lashes and big brown eyes. Teeth that flashed bright against the rest of his dark complexion._

_She hoped he'd be back before she had to leave for her job._

_Laying down, she burrowed as deep as she could into the warm bed. The ground was a little hard, the cardboard didn't do much to cushion, but it blocked the cold from the concrete from seeping in. Fiona reached under Calvin's tattered pillow for his watch, which had an alarm and was in a much nicer state than her own. It had to be, seeing as he had stolen it. Setting the alarm to half past eight, she finally allowed herself to close her eyes._


	3. Stomach full of Smoke

As it turns out, Fiona hadn't needed to set the alarm at all. She awoke, in a cold sweat, her heart pounding in inexplicable fear, exactly ten minutes before the alarm was supposed to go off.

Gazing blindly at the ceiling through the darkness, she worked to steady her panicked breathing. There wasn't much she could remember of the dream, except the blood. A river of it rising from the grates in the street, flooding the alleyway until she was wading in it. Rising higher and higher until she was barely holding her chin above the tide. There was something hiding underneath. Pulling at her ankles at first, then growing bolder as the flood grew higher, pulling at her arms and her waist…

Even in the cozy warmth of the room, she shivered. 'That's what I get for accidentally murdering a guy,' She thought bitterly to herself, 'nightmares and post traumatic stress disorder.'

She noted that Calvin wasn't back yet; he would have woken her. There was a sort of unspoken agreement to wake each other up if one of them was in distress. They'd lie there quietly together in the night, sometimes holding each other's hands until the fear passed and they were asleep again.

Feeling around her in the blackness, she found her backpack and unzipped it. She dug around in her backpack until her fingers grasped the familiar softness of her other sweatshirt. Fiona pulled off the red and pulled on the purple, burying her nose into the fabric for the pleasant, lingering scent of detergent and fabric softener.

It was nearly time for another trip to the Laundromat, surely Calvin's clothes were starting to smell funky as well. They each had three whole sets of clothes, along with several miscellaneous items, that they would trade off until their 'Laundry Day.' Every other Sunday they would drag their clothes down to the Laundromat on 4th and Larimer and wash their clothes. There was a bathroom there where they took turns sponging down. Then they would lounge lazily until their clothes were finished. It smelled good in there, and it was probably the only place Cal ever got a good sleep, the rumbling of the industrial dryers quickly putting him to sleep. Fiona would watch over him dutifully until he woke, entertaining herself with gossip magazines and watching the television mounted up in the corner.

With her toting guns this week, they would have enough cash to wash everything, as well as hot meals for a good while. They could go get Thai after she was done with work. Her stomach rumbled loudly at the thought of food.

She pulled on her sneakers, tamed her red hair back into it's orderly braid, and grabbed a few cigarettes from Calvin's stash. Listening for any noise in the alley before climbing out again, Fiona put on her baseball cap and lit up.

Smoking as she walked, she sniffled and rubbed at her face. Despite obvious health concerns, it was the best way to suppress hunger. Calvin, of course, had got her started on it. He'd been smoking since he was nine. Fiona's own mother had been a smoker, and the smell and taste of menthol cigarettes was as familiar to her as the back of her hand. It was almost comforting, it reminded her of home. Gotham was a little more uptight on age restrictions, but corner stores in the Narrows couldn't care less as long as you had enough money to pay for them. Usually Fiona went in to get them, because even in the Narrows, most of the time they took one look at Calvin and said no. Fiona, who looked _slightly_ older, could get them without much problem. They both looked young for their age, Calvin even more so, which sometimes made surviving in the 'Grown-up World' difficult.

The weather was warming up, it was slightly nicer than yesterday, which made Fiona all the happier. She loathed the Winter. Dark, cold days where the city froze over. Spring was on the way, and soon things would be alive and growing again. The thought made her so excited that she nearly skipped as she puffed along. Instead, she opted for a hurried walk as she made her way towards Sam's place north of Crown Point.

Ten minutes later she was at the doorstep, where she knocked six times and hopped from leg to leg on the porch.

She really had to pee.

Sam's friend, Nathan, opened the door.

"Hey, Fi." He greeted, opening the door a little wider.

Fiona, without question, was the favorite. The rest of the troupe were surly teenagers who were often late. Fiona, on the other hand, was almost always early, didn't talk back or make a fuss, and was good at blending in while on a job. It probably helped that she was the youngest, and thus 'the baby.' They were always nice to her, they didn't talk down to her, and treated her like an adult. Fiona liked that. She couldn't be expected to respect anyone that didn't give her with the same mutual courtesy. She might go as far as to say that she looked up to them.

"Lemme in, Nate. I gotta pee." She whined, dancing comically on the doorstep.

He laughed at her, "Alright, alright. Hurry it up."

She ducked under his outstretched arm and made a beeline for the bathroom. As usual, she was the first one here, the rest of the kids were nowhere to be seen. Fiona had washed her hands and was cleaning her teeth in the mirror when there was a call from somewhere in the living room.

"Hey Fi, come here when you're done."

"I _am_ done!" She called back, and opened the bathroom door.

Sam was waiting for her in the living room, guns dismantled and set in front of him on the table. The television was on, tuned to GCN. She flopped down beside him and looked curiously at the weapons laid out.

"You're gonna be doing transport stuff a little later on today. You have little hands right?" He asked.

Fiona held up her hands for his inspection and he nodded. "Good. You're going to be helping me clean these out."

She perked up, this was much better than running around in the cold all morning. The rest of the kids had arrived. Greg, looking as surly and antisocial as ever, as well as Riley and Vivien, who left one at a time with their cases. It seemed Ryan hadn't shown up today, or maybe he'd been cut out of the project, Fiona wasn't sure. She knew better than to ask.

Cleaning the guns, as well as learning how to take them apart and put them back together, turned out to be a lot funner than she expected. It was like a 3D puzzle game; if 3D puzzle games included handling live weapons and ammunition. Sam and Nate talked as they worked, and Fiona occasionally chimed in here and there when the conversation was relevant to her. When it wasn't, she concentrated on the guns and listened to the news.

An hour and a half later, Nate was systematically packing one of the violin cases with the merchandise and Fiona watched, her attention rapt.

"Don't jostle the case and be back before noon for your next load. You're taking Ryan's route since he's not here. You know his route right? Gambol's?"

Fiona nodded and tucked her hair up under her baseball cap.

"Hey, no hats." Sam said, coming up behind them and pointing to her cap. "Remember, you're an upstanding citizen on her way to violin practice."

"I know, I know." She said, she'd heard it a thousand times before. But she liked wearing her hat, it gave her a sense of security. People were less inclined to bother you if you looked suspicious, wearing a hat and a hood were the best ways to avoid confrontation. But she was on the job now, she had to be a model of the perfect little Gothamite.

"Well then give it here, I'll hold it for you until you get back."

Grinning, Fiona handed it over, knowing he would give in and smile back. He did, and she turned to take the case from Nate. They checked the window next to the door before letting her go out. Hurrying down the steps, she turned right on the sidewalk, towards the city.

Before the Batman had shown up, Maroni and Gambol had been rivals. There had been turf-wars and shoot-outs between the lot of them. But since then, the Chechen, Maroni, and Gambol had all called a kind of truce, even doing business with each other. They all had one common enemy now, the Batman. And now, they were preparing for an all out war against the vigilante.

She wished she could just take the monorail into the city, but Sam had expressedly forbid it. Something about being too conspicuous. There were a lot of muggings on the train too, it had terrible surveillance. Most of the camera's on the train had either been broken or stolen. But that was for her other route to the Chechen's, Gambol's route didn't even follow along the monorail line. Gambol's front was a Ethiopian food joint in downtown West Harlow, and he did most of his business dealings there, according to Sam and Nathan. Fiona had never actually met him.

Trudging along, taking care not to jostle her case, she walked the eighteen blocks to West Harlow without incident, turning at the corner of Harlow Park and then another five blocks to the Ethiopian food place. She entered at the back, and when the man who opened the door saw her violin case, he let her in immediately.

"Where's our usual kid?" A voice asked, and Fiona turned to see who was talking.

It was a dark-skinned man in a well tailored suit, there were several rings on his finger and big diamond studs in his ears. Fiona guessed it was Gambol, and suddenly she felt very nervous. He had somewhat of a reputation.

"He's gone. I have his route until he comes back." Fiona answered nervously, handing the case over.

He gave her a long, hard look and then set the case down on the industrial steel table behind him. Turning, he called, "Hey, give little red here some dabo kolo!"

Gambol was decidedly different than Maroni, who preferred not to get his hands dirty. He unloaded the guns and checked each one himself, giving a satisfied nod as each was deemed passable. He obviously knew his way around a weapon.

Fiona stood awkwardly near the door, watching them begin to reload the guns and ammo into a suitcase. Someone handed her a paper bag that was half full of things that looked like those frozen pizza bites but tasted surprisingly like a kind of spicy pretzel. She immediately found that she liked them immensely, and snacked happily for the next few minutes until they handed her case back. Soon, she was back out the door.

Finishing her dabo-whatsit on her way back to Sam's, she fished out another cigarette. She didn't have to play at 'upstanding citizen' now that her case was empty. The only risks she faced now she brought upon herself. But the odds were good. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head, hanging low over her eyes as she walked.

Anyone under eighteen could get picked up by the cops. But, being under eighteen, they were smaller, faster, and living on the streets let you learn the grid like no one else. If you didn't go to school, didn't go to work, what else were you going to do but wander around and explore?

That's exactly what her and Calvin did on their day's off. Run around the streets and rooftops like a couple of vagabonds. Building upon the miniature highway system that already existed up there. A network that belonged only to the street kids and, well, maybe the Batman. But her and Calvin barely ever went up there at night, and when they did, they were together.

It was a shaky highway of half rotten boards and plywood stretching the gaps between buildings over gaps and alleyways. In the Narrows, with it's buildings so close together, the makeshift network stretched across the rooftops of the entire island. The only territory they didn't dare breach was Arkham Asylum. That wasn't a problem, as Booker's street was the only normal sized road in the Narrows, they couldn't build across even if they tried. It was simply too wide, and they wouldn't want to anyway. The Asylum was a madhouse, you'd have to be crazy yourself to want to ever go near there.

In early afternoon, the traffic had died down quite a bit. Fiona gazed down at the water as she crossed the bridge to Cobbler's Place. From there it was just a short walk to Crown Point. She was pleasantly full now, and she tossed the butt of her cigarette over the bridge, violin case still in hand. It would be easy to last until supper time.

Four handguns, an AK-47 and a few boxes of ammunition later, Nate was slapping two twenties and a tenner into her hand. It was around six 'o clock now, and it seemed she was the first one done as well as the first one there. Sam handed her cap back to her.

"We start again tomorrow, come at nine, you know, the usual." He said, waving his hand about and shooing her out the door.

"See ya, Fi." Nate called from somewhere in the living room.

"Bye Nate! Bye Sam!" She called lightly from the bottom of the stairs. Looking up the street, she could see Vivien coming up the street with her empty case. Kneeling down quickly, she stuffed her pay into her sock, then headed towards the burrow.

Calvin knew she worked today and would likely be waiting for her. Feeling a little guilty for smoking his cigarettes, she stopped by the corner store on her way back and bought two packs, one for each of them. Some Indian guy was running the cash register and handed them over without a fuss. Fiona liked him, mostly because he didn't give a shit.

First checking to make sure no one was watching, Fiona was through the basement window in seconds. As soon as her legs dangled in, Calvin tugged playfully on the ankle of her jeans. She dropped in, and for once, it was brighter inside than out. There was a lantern going on the floor.

"See what I got, Fi?" He grinned, his teeth flashing in the light. "Some poor sap had a fifty in his wallet. A _fifty_! So I got this. Nice, right?" He gestured to the lamp, some camping get-up that probably ran on propane or something.

"Nice, Cal." She intoned, nodding in approval. Now they could actually see what they were doing down there instead of just groping around in the dark. There had been a light at one point, but it had burned out a long time ago. They'd tried putting another one in, but there must have been something wrong with the actual plug, because it wouldn't light no matter what they did.

"Come on," He said, his skinny frame already making his way to the window, "Let's go get something to eat."

They went to their frequent haunt, the Thai place just a block over. The pair of them waited impatiently behind a some poor, tired looking guy who smelled like campfire smoke, who got so much food that he struggled to carry it all out. They ordered enough for five people, intending to take the leftovers back with them in take-out boxes.

"Hey Fiona."

"What?" She said, swallowing her noodles and looking up at him.

Calvin grinned from across the table, "I dare you to eat this." He waved a small, red pepper in her face, looking mischievous.

Fiona grinned back at him, flippantly took the pepper, and popped it whole, into her mouth. Calvin only smiled wider, which should have been the first red flag. She continued chewing, trying to figure out what he was on about, teeth crunching down, when suddenly her mouth erupted.

She lasted five more seconds before she grabbed a packet of sugar from the table and poured it into her mouth.

"What was that?" She choked out, her mouth still aflame. Fiona grabbed another packet of sugar.

Calvin settled back against the booth with a satisfied smirk. "Oh, just a pepper. A _seranno_ pepper."

"You fucker, did you soak that in tobasco before you gave that to me?" She said, taking a big gulp of water. Her throat was still burning, and she took a bite of rice to try and quell her scorched mouth.

He giggled, his face lighting up. "Maybe."

It was good to keep Calvin well fed. If he went too long without a good meal he got quiet and sullen. She liked him better like this, cheerful and laughing, up to his usual shenanigans. Though she shouldn't be one to talk, if Fiona didn't get enough fruit in her diet she got the same way. It made for a bad combination when they both got hungry, fighting over stupid little things.

When they were full, Calvin having eaten a majority of what they'd bought, they headed back to the burrow. He stood outside the window and kept watch, passing the take-out boxes through the window to Fiona, then shimmied inside.

They were both bone tired. Fiona, having ran all over the city, and Calvin from picking pockets all morning. They lay there together in their nest of blankets, Calvin with his bare feet held up close to the industrial hot water heater and chatted idly about this and that. Eventually, his breathing slowed, and he was quiet. Fiona propped her chin up on her hand and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest before rolling over onto her back.

Her mind went back to the blood and the man in the alley. She hadn't told him. What would she say? What _could_ she say? It wasn't as if Calvin would ostracize her. But he wouldn't understand, he hadn't ever killed anyone before. Pushing it from her mind, she fiddled with the lamp a bit before she finally figured out how to turn it off. Somehow she'd gotten used to the darkness of her little den, it seemed strange to have the light on now.

She set the watch as a back-up, knowing Calvin would wake her before he left, but just in case she drifted off to sleep again. But she didn't fall asleep for another hour or two, listening to the sounds of passing cars and the general nighttime noise of the Narrows_._


	4. Shots Fired

It was warmer than it had been in weeks. Temperatures in Gotham soared into the high fifties. Causing the leftover grey slush of winter to melt away. Fiona reveled in the sudden warmth, even opting to leave her jacket back at the burrow. She swung her empty case back and forth as she walked back to Crown Point.

In the morning, her and Calvin had shared a breakfast of leftover Thai. It was nice to be able to eat in the morning. Food was fuel, and for once she felt as though she had enough energy to get through the day. She felt a lot happier than she usually did in the morning, for one thing.

There had been no nightmares. The heavy food had put her into an equally heavy stupor, and she hadn't woken up once the whole night. If she _had_ had a nightmare, she didn't remember. In that case, Fiona was thankful. She didn't need to spend the rest of the day with the thought of blood hanging over her head.

Though it was only her second day on the job for Gambol's route, she liked him much better than the Chechen's men. On her first delivery she'd gotten another paper bag of dabo kolo, which she carried, uneaten, in her left hand. She figured Calvin would like to try it, she'd raved about how good it was last night as they ate their Thai.

As per usual, she had finished her delivery early. Calvin was probably still hanging around Gotham National, where he hung around after the morning rush of commuters. Every now and then he could get a good mark in front of the Bank, but it was tricky, people were usually more alert.

She wasn't supposed to be back at Sam's until around three. Fiona checked her watch, she had about twenty minutes to spare if she walked fast. Gotham National wasn't too far out of her way, she could afford to swing by and say hello.

Turning east on fifty-second street, she passed the corner of Harlow Park where she ordinarily would have gone north. Walking quickly along, she reached the Bank in just under ten minutes. Fiona stopped on the sidewalk across the street from Gotham National. There were a few stragglers here and there, business men finishing up a late lunch break. A few people on whatever business it was they were on. Standing on tiptoe, she searched for Calvin.

Five minutes later, and no trace of his wild black hair, she groaned. There wasn't any need to wait for him like this, she had only swung by to say hello. That she could do when they were both done with their work for the day. Although she didn't know how well the Ethiopian snack would taste after being carried around all afternoon, maybe a little stale, but still good. She could give it to him then…

There was a sudden echoing bang from somewhere nearby and Fiona stiffened.

"The fuck was that? Was that _gunshots_?" She muttered incredulously, looking around for the source of the noise. Yes, it was definitely gunshots. There was a sudden chorus of screams and she looked to GNB across the street. She could just barely make out a couple of clowns through the window, it looked like people had already gotten down on the floor.

"Oh, shit."

Gotham National was being robbed. Soon this place would be crawling with police… shit, she had to find Calvin and warn him. She searched with purpose as she surveyed the area, but Calvin was still nowhere to be seen. Usually he was right here, wandering up and down the avenue making marks. But if he wasn't along the way here, where could he be? There were more shots and Fiona glanced fearfully back at the bank.

'Maybe he isn't even here…' She realized, her hands beginning to sweat. She quickly wiped her hands on her jeans and began to walk north, leaving the intersection behind her. Fiona kept her eyes trained on the bank as she went along the sidewalk opposite.

More gunshots.

She walked faster.

There was a flurry of movement behind the windows but it was hard to tell exactly what was going on. Some guys in clown masks and guns. Gotham had a way of attracting the strange, that was for sure. And when things got strange, Fiona got the hell out. If Calvin _had_ been around, he would have heard the shots and beat feet.

'Fuck it.' She declared mentally, heading back towards Crown Point, 'I'll see him at home. I'm _already_ in the middle of doing something illegal now, it would be a bad idea to get caught up in something else too.'

Fiona was halfway down the next block when a bus crashed into the wall behind her.

"Nope, nope, nope." She muttered, breaking into a jog, her long braid trailing behind her.

It was all over the news at Sam's. The theme for Gotham Central News blared and quickly cut to a breaking news segment about the bank robbery, where SWAT teams were currently diffusing live grenades. Fiona set her snack on the table and crossed the room to get a better view of the television.

"Crazy, huh?" Nathan asked, nudging her in the side. "This dude who dresses up like a clown and does shit like this? It's crazy."

"Maroni's gonna be pissed." Sam said quietly, "That was one of _our_ banks."

He didn't need to elaborate. The Mob had a couple of banks where they kept their dirty money, there were extra precautions and security measures, mostly for the Batman, should he try anything funny. But it seemed now they had been preparing for the wrong person. But it was suicide, anyone _sane_ wouldn't ever think to hit the mob like this. Obviously, this joker guy, whoever he was, _wasn't_.

Riley was there as well, for once he had finished before her. He watched the coverage with interest, even sitting on the back of the couch to watch. Nathan was checking Riley's case, making sure nothing would jostle as it was carried, looking up every few seconds to watch the GCN footage. Hostages were exiting one by one as the grenade's were diffused. They played a clip of a police officer carrying out a clown mask in a ziploc evidence bag.

Fiona recognized it immediately, it had been one of the masks she'd seen through the window of the bank.

The sound of a phone ringing snapped her out of it. She looked around only to realize that Riley had left without her noticing and now it was her case being packed. Sam answered his cell phone and was speaking in low, hushed tones with the other line. Something was going on, something bad. It was something about the bank, that much was apparent. But the phone call was too brief to really zero in on anything else.

Nathan handed her back her case, and Fiona walked out the door, her mind in a haze. It was all pretty clever really, from what she had seen and heard. Crashing a school bus into the side of the building for a quick getaway, at which point the cops were already outside. Now the clown didn't even have to exit the building to get to his getaway car. It was already waiting for him, right as school got out. This Joker must be some kind of genius. Planning things out so thoroughly; you'd _have_ to be some kind of criminal mastermind to be able to foresee everything that could go wrong.

Fiona wondered about it in depth as she went along. Maybe Calvin knew more about it, he seemed to know everything about everyone. She'd ask him after work if he'd heard anything interesting.

She was so deep in thought, that she didn't notice the car slow down next to her.

"Fiona!? Fiona Flemming?"

She turned her head to the sound of a woman's voice, only to be met with the stunned gaze of Officer Callahan as she leaned out the drivers window of a police cruiser. Fiona froze in shock. The car jerked to a halt. As soon as the door clicked open, the spell was broken, and she was off with a start.

"Oh shit. Shit, fuck, shit." Fiona panted, but she could hear heavy footsteps gaining on her. Suddenly there was a hand on her arm, pulling her back, then deftly curved around to grab hold of her middle. It was Officer Harvey.

Fighting tooth and nail, biting and clawing, Fiona desperately tried to get away. The odds were on Officer Harvey's side, however. He weighed maybe twice as much as her, and her ninety pound frame was no match for his strength. In the confusion, her case popped open.

Two hand guns and five boxes spilled out onto the asphalt. One of the boxes had the misfortune to rip, and bullets scattered across the sidewalk like heavy rain.

"What the hell…" He grunted, holding Fiona up in the air by her middle, as she continued to kick and swear. Officer Callahan, who had pulled over and parked, worked quickly to gather up the illegal goods as Officer Harvey attempted to shove Fiona into the back of the cruiser. She was still struggling, trying anything to slip out of his grasp.

"Please, please, please!" She begged, breathless from the fight, tears now flowing freely down her face. But when she felt a cool metal cuff click round one wrist, then the other, she knew she had lost.

In the back of the cruiser, Fiona wiped her face miserably on her shoulder and willed herself to stop crying. It couldn't have turned out any worse. They hadn't expected to see her, but had obviously been keeping an eye out for her. Combined with the fact that social services was looking for her, as well as the police, and the fact that she had been in the middle of a gun run when they'd caught her… things weren't looking good.

Callahan and Harvey were radioing in, and from what she could tell of their conversation, were taking her down the MCU on account of the weapons. If she hadn't been a job, she might have been taken down to main street station or social services. But the guns in her violin case had complicated things for a bit.

She felt a buzzing sort of numbness. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, and her hands were shaking and sweaty. Her braid had come loose, and her vivid red hair hung about her shoulders in a long, wavy curtain.

Officer Callahan tried asking her questions on the way there, but Fiona didn't answer. Instead, she looked out the window as they drove along. She could bring her legs up and switch the cuffs to in front of her instead of behind, but it would make things worse. The back doors were impossible to open from the inside, and a metal grate separated her from the two police. If only she had a hair pin, if only they left her alone for just a second… she could get out. She had to. Oh god, Maroni was going to kill her. She'd end up dead in the river like her mother.

The trip to MCU was shorter than she expected, or maybe she was just in shock. Her heart was still pounding painfully in her throat. She was never late on a delivery. Gambol's guys would wonder where she was, phone up Sam, who would eventually have to phone Maroni. With that bank being robbed, all that money stolen, Maroni would already be in a foul mood. She shuddered at the thought of what her repercussions might be if she ever got away from the police.

The car door opened.

"If I take these off, are you going to run?" Harvey asked, giving her a wary glance.

Hell yes, she'd run and run and they'd never, ever fucking catch her again. But she shook her head and turned so that her back was to him, holding her hands out behind her. He unlocked the handcuffs and when she got out of the car, he immediately took hold of her arm, firmly steering her up the stone steps and into Major Crimes.

They took her up to the second floor where she was handed off to scowling, fat man named Wurtz. She didn't know where they took the guns too. Evidence, maybe.

Fiona sat, still and impassive, in a small room with a table and chairs and a big window looking out over the street. At first she thought it might have been an interrogation room, but it was too nice for that. A conference or meeting room or something. A woman came in to talk to her, bringing her a little paper cup with water, which she refused to touch. Ignoring the woman, she gazed resolutely out the window instead.

When the woman realized she wasn't going to be talking anytime soon, she left Fiona alone, though she heard the audible click of the door locking from the outside. There were windows looking out into the hallway, and she watched as the woman and Wurtz talked through the open blinds, straining to hear their muffled conversation and wishing desperately that she could lip read.

They left her alone for a long while, how long, she wasn't sure. The clock in the room seemed to be permanently stuck on one o'clock, which it most certainly was not. The sky grew dark outside as she sat and waited. Fiona realized with delight that they had not bothered to search her. She took an inventory of her pockets, out of boredom, and in case she might make an escape. Wurtz was at his desk, and the woman had gone. Feeling safe that no one would see, she counted her items, trying to see if anything would be useful.

There was her pack of cigarettes, a green lighter, a pack of Star Wars playing cards that belonged to Calvin, her pocket knife and two extra hair bands. There was a twenty dollar bill stuffed into her sock too, which wouldn't come in handy immediately, but might later on. Fiona braided her hair back again, letting the long plait drape over the back of the chair. Tired, and feeling a little imperious, she put her feet up on the table and closed her eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, the doorknob clicked and she looked up from her nap to see a man with thick glasses and a grey mustache enter the room. He strode over and reached across the table to smack her sneakers lightly, and, obediently, she took her feet down. He took the chair opposite, and ran his fingers tiredly through his hair.

Fiona tried to keep her face as blank as possible.

"Hello, Fiona. I'm Lieutenant Gordon." He didn'tbother with formalities. If he hadn't been a cop, Fiona might have even liked him. There was something frank and winning about his expression. He paused before continuing.

"So, you're running guns for Maroni?" He asked, but it sounded like more of a statement than a question. "Awfully young to be doing that kind of work, aren't you?" He paused again and rested his arms on the table, "Listen, Fiona, I think you're a good kid that's made a mistake. I know it's difficult to make ends meet, especially for how young you are, and _especially_ when you're living on the street."

Fiona nodded hesitantly and he seemed pleased to get a response, however small. He didn't talk down to her, or treat her like a delinquent like the woman from earlir had. Someone like him probably had children of his own.

"It's getting late," he said, "and you're probably tired, not to mention hungry, am I right?"

Fiona nodded again.

"You like coffee?" He rose from his chair to stand.

"Yeah._"_


	5. Maroni's Meeting

AN: I have no idea if anyone is even reading this anymore or not. Please review if you are and leave feedback! It would mean a lot to me if you did.

He took her down the hall to a small break room and poured her a cup of coffee; as well as one for himself. She sipped quietly as they began for the stairs.

"We'll talk again tomorrow," He began, "You'll spend the night at St. Swithin's. I'll take you there myself since it's on the way."

"Are you going to Gotham National?" Her Styrofoam cup was already half-empty.

They approached the glass doors.

"I was over there earlier because of that robbery." he explained, and shook his head before taking a drink of his coffee. "What a mess."

She realized with a sudden rush that they were outside. _And no one was holding onto her_. This was her chance! Her cup fell to the ground, splashing what was left of her coffee across the asphalt.

"Are you- Fiona! Fiona, stop!"

Working her arms furiously, she sprinted down the sidewalk. She wouldn't be making the same mistake again. She would _not_ get caught, she _wouldn't_. There was another shout from behind her but Fiona had gotten a head start. Ducking into an alley, she made another left at the street opposite, doubling back behind the MCU building. Her own solitary footfalls splashed loudly in the street. Still, she couldn't sure if he was still following her or not.

Within fifteen minutes, she was crossing the bridge to the narrows. Though her lungs were burning, Fiona forced herself to keep running. A few heads turned as she sped past, but Fiona ignored them. "Almost there, one more block." She told herself, and she closed the distance quickly, turning sharply into a side street.

Glancing behind her and around to make sure no one was watching, she clambered up the wooden pallets to the top of a green metal dumpster. Standing on the wobbly lid, she jumped for the fire escape.

'Still frozen.' She mused, grunting quietly as she pulled herself up. The ladder didn't budge. The metal creaked quietly as she moved upward towards the roof. The rooftops of the Narrows had been a hidden highway even before Batman. Fiona knew why he ran around up here. You could see the whole city from there, laid out like grid work before your very eyes.

In a few places, long pieces of board and ply-wood had been laid across the gaps between buildings. Unstable and dangerous, the make-shift bridges were utilized almost exclusively by street kids, namely Calvin and Fiona. Adults were too heavy, once they got to the middle, the boards would snap. But if you were light, sure-footed and quick, you could get across in seconds.

It was especially perilous at night, the thick, polluted smog of the city making it hard to see. Not to mention the ominous threat of the Batman. The rooftops belonged to him at night. But now, with the police looking for her, Fiona felt no other choice but to venture back up to the abandoned network of bridges.

Two boards, nailed clumsily together by inexperienced hands, linked this building to the next. She flipped the boards, so that what was left of the late winter snow fell to the alley blow. Now it was dry and safer to cross. The danger of slipping on the slick wood somewhat lessened. The gap was only six feet across, but at five stories up, it seemed wider than that. Fiona refused to look down, only keeping her eyes on the boards in front of her.

Crossing quickly, she navigated the next few buildings easily. These here were built so close together it was only a couple of feet between the buildings. There were no bridges here. It was easier to just jump. So she did, from this one to the next, rooftop to rooftop, she made her way over the narrows across a labyrinth of bridges. Finally, she came to the top of the red-bricked apartment building. She stopped, clutching at the stitch in her side, sinking slowly to the ground.

Only here, atop the rooftops of Gotham, was she truly safe. The police would never find her up here, that is, if they were still looking for her.

Fiona buried her face in her hands.

"Damn it." She breathed, "I am in such deep _shit_." Standing shakily, she rose to sit between the wall and the air conditioning unit. Balancing on her heels, she buried her hands in her pockets, shivering against the chill of the nighttime wind. "Fuck, I am in such _deep shit_."

Sam might not be so bad, he wouldn't be angry with her. Rather, he would be more afraid of what Maroni would do to her. Despite her fear, she felt guilty also. She felt bad for running from Gordon. He was the only person besides Calvin who had honestly been concerned for her well-being. Gordon had had her best interests at heart. Hell, he had even wanted her to come back the next day so she could get some food and sleep.

Come to think of it, Gordon had looked like he had needed some food and sleep himself…

Fiona curled inward on herself, bracing against the February cold. Pulling up her hood, she rested her head in her knees.

What was she to do? It wasn't as if she could leave Gotham. It wasn't as if Maroni would be put in jail anytime soon. If she chose to run, she would always be running. Maroni had most of the city in his pocket. She would always be on his black list. The path of least resistance was to turn herself in to him. Make amends and accept whatever punishment he doled out. It couldn't be too bad, could it? He would keep her off the street for a long while, until the smuggling case went unsolved and forgotten. It would be torture, to stay inside and unseen for so long. Fiona went stir crazy after just a few hours.

He couldn't kill her. Maybe beat her around a bit, get one of his men to do it, seeing as Maroni didn't like to get his hands dirty. Keep her hidden away from the police, so that they lost their only lead and witness. If he kept her under his thumb, she would never be free to testify against him.

Not that she would want to. That would just move her from the black list to the hit list. She'd have to go into witness protection or something, leave the city.

A sudden sound on the rooftop made Fiona stiffen. Slowly, she looked up.

Batman was standing on the edge of the roof, looking out.

Fiona didn't dare to even breathe. He hadn't seen her, and probably wouldn't even if he happened to look in her direction; she was well hidden in shadow between the wall of the stairwell and the AC unit. But he was gone in an instant, diving off the rooftop and into the open air.

"W-what the fuck?" she gasped, her voice still breathless from her earlier escape, staring at the spot where he had disappeared. Fiona shook her head. What the hell kind of day was this? "This town," she laughed against her knees, "this fucking town."

Too scared to move from her hiding place, she curled up, shut her eyes, and tried to sleep.

Fiona didn't sleep more than a few hours. Nightmares kept waking her, and the wind continued to bite at her through her clothes. When the sun rose over the eastern skyline, she clambered to her feet, stiff and aching from the cold, her eyes dazed and sleepy.

Not wanting to brave the bridges in her sleep deprived state, she instead jumped to the next building over and used the fire escape to climb back down to the street. Pulling up her hood, she stuffed her hands into her pockets.

She decided she would take refuge at Sam's. Sam and Nate would make sure Maroni didn't do anything rash, wouldn't they? Maroni couldn't kill her, even though she was a liability, it would be worse to have her body turn up somewhere. The police would have all the evidence they needed then. Not to mention a damn good motive. Maroni would never hold up in court if he killed her. No, he couldn't.

But he couldn't just let her go, either. The police would catch up with her eventually, it was only a matter of time. Speaking of time, Fiona checked her watch, it was a little after six in the morning.

Her stomach was rolling with anxiety. When she reached Sam's, she hesitated before knocking quietly at the door. For a moment she wasn't sure if she had knocked loudly enough, but soon there were footsteps in the hallway.

"Fiona?! Where were you? Sam had to call one of Maroni's guys, we even went out looking for you…" Nate put an arm around her shoulders and ushered her quickly inside.

"I-I got caught." She managed, and then, "I'm gonna throw up."

Immediately steering her towards the bathroom, Nate hovered awkwardly in the doorway as Fiona lay down on the cool tile floor.

"Fiona, what happened? Sam's going to be down any minute, we both woke up early to try looking for you again. You're never late, we thought something had happened…"

"Someone recognized me." She said from the floor, her stomach was roiling, "Some police that came a few months ago when my Mom died. One of them recognized me. I tried to run, but, they caught me. Took me down to MCU." Fiona began to cry, "I lost the guns, Nate. They have the guns."

Nathan looked at a loss for what to do, but it was at that moment that Sam came through the doorway. He gave her a pitying look, and Fiona wiped self consciously at her running nose. Sam motioned for Nate to leave with a jerk of his head.

It was a miracle that Sam could understand a word she said through her blubbering and sniffling. But when she was done recounting what had happened, leaving out the part about the Batman, he sighed and rubbed at his face.

"He's not going to be happy about this, Fiona." He must have seen the fear on her face. "Don't worry too much about it. I'll call him in a little while. We'll get some food in you first and then take you down to the restaurant. Don't worry, alright? You couldn't have known those cops would recognize you, and you got away in the end. All they have is the guns, it'll be hard to trace them back to any of us, especially Maroni. They're wiped down before we pack them up for delivery, see? No prints. All they have is your name, but I'm sure Maroni can get you out of it. He knows people, ok?"

"Ok." Fiona said, sitting up and wiping at her reddened eyes. She felt a _little_ better now. She was suddenly glad that she had come and turned herself in instead of trying to run or hide. This could be fixed, she was the only link between the guns and Maroni, and if the mob hid her for a while, this whole thing would blow over.

"It's gonna be fine, kiddo." Sam said, but there was something strange in his voice. He cleared his throat, "Come on, let's get you some food."

Nathan cooked scrambled eggs and toast. Fiona finished her plate and had seconds, she was so hungry, drowning her eggs in ketchup. The only thing she had eaten was a handful of those Ethiopian snacks yesterday. The food helped to settle the anxiety in her stomach, and now she felt full and sleepy. Nate brought her hat back from where she had left it yesterday, and she was glad to have it back. It was like her security blanket, her hat and her hood made her feel safe, protected. Sam was on the phone in the other room, speaking rapid Italian with the occasional English here and there. Nate set a glass of water in front of her, and she downed that as well. She wished she spoke Italian. The only words she knew were the curses Nate had taught her. Fiona could hear her own name sprinkled throughout the conversation, but couldn't understand any more than that.

The conversation had come to an end. There was a long silence before Sam came back into the kitchen. He picked up a piece of toast, took a bite, chewed, and said, "I have to bring her down to the restaurant."

Any sense of security Fiona might have felt during breakfast was now gone.

"It'll be fine though, right? Right?" Desperation crept into her voice.

"Right." said Sam, clearing his throat again. "Come on, I'll take you in the car. We're having a meeting about that Joker guy and the robbery, anyway. Maroni will talk to you after it's over."

"Bye Nate." Fiona said miserably, giving him a little wave. She abandoned her seat at the table to follow Sam out the back door.

"Bye Fi."

They both smoked on the way to the Restaurant. Cigarette smoke curled and rose out the cracked windows and into the velar morning air as they drove along. Fiona flicking her lighter nervously until Sam told her to cut it out. When they arrived, he took her in through the front, past the red checkered tables and into the kitchen where they were setting up long folding tables.

Sam led her through another door where industrial metal sinks and countertops lined the walls.

"Sit tight for a bit. I don't think this will take too long, maybe an hour. Just-just stay here, ok?"

"Ok." Fiona said, nodding and he went back through the door and into the kitchen. Careful not to disturb the stacks of dirty dishes, she clambered up onto the counter and sat, her little legs swinging. Nervously, she took another cigarette from her pocket and lit it, taking a deep drag. Fiona undid her braid and ran her fingers through her hair, it was in desperate need of a wash. It wasn't oily, but there was a more than a fair amount of dirt and grime, which made it look all the worse. In fact, giving herself a once over, her whole body was pretty dirty. Her jeans were probably the worst. What she wouldn't give for clean clothes and a hot shower. Fiona put out her cigarette, and, utilizing the sink next to her, washed up. She scrubbed at her face, neck and arms, as best she could. It was a little bit better. At least there wasn't dirt on her face anymore.

Climbing back onto the counter, she combed her hair with her fingers and braided it back into one long, red plait. She had just relit her cigarette when the back door swung open and a man walked in.

Fiona gaped wordlessly at him.

He was the strangest looking man she had ever seen, stranger even than the Batman. He had green, greasy hair and white paint smeared all over his face. Two black circles were smudged haphazardly around his dark eyes. But the thing that caught her attention were his scars. They twisted like ropes up either side of his face, forming a gruesome Glasgow smile. He had smeared paint over these too, bright red paint that reminded her of a circus clown.

But he wasn't like any clown _she_ had ever seen.

The Joker put a finger too his lips, smiled at her with yellowed teeth, and continued on through the next door.

There was a commotion in the next room and Fiona sat, as stunned as she had been last night when she had gotten her first glimpse of the Batman. Before she had completely registered what she was doing, she was leaping down from the counter top and making a beeline for the back entrance_._

"Always running…" She muttered grimly, as she pushed open the heavy metal door.


	6. Amusement Mile

AN: I dunno if I'm going to continue posting this, I'll continue writing, obviously, for my own enjoyment. But I don't know if I'll bother posting anymore if nobody is going to read it anyway. Tell me what you think, yay or nay?

Fiona made it out into the alley way before someone seized her around the waist.

"Put me down! Put me _down_!" She screamed, clawing furiously at her captors hands, "No, no, _no_! Let me _go_!"

"Shut up!" The man hissed, putting his gloved hand over her mouth as he dragged her backwards. Fiona snapped at his fingers viciously with her teeth and he quickly drew his fingers away.

"Why didn't you just shoot him?!" Someone yelled from somewhere behind her.

"I cant!" The man replied, grunting with the effort it took to keep Fiona hostage. "It's just a kid!" He dragged her backwards toward the open door of a van.

When the door slammed shut, Fiona felt a surging rush of terror and adrenaline. Fighting back harder than ever, she began to scream and thrash, her hat coming off in the struggle. She was sick and tired of being caught and wrestled into the back of cars. Police, mob, whoever, she was sick of it, and she made it incredibly plain with her screaming and biting that she was _done_.

"Fiona?! Fiona, stop! Cut it out, ok?"

She was stunned into silence as she recognized the boy in the driver's seat.

"I- No way…" She murmured, her voice hoarse from her screaming, "Ryan?"

"Hey, Fi." He said wearily, scratching at his scalp through his blond hair.

"What-" The man from behind finally released her, and she sat on the metal floor of the van in a shocked little heap. "I- what- you're working with that Joker guy?!"

Ryan shrugged.

"Ohh…" She realized, "that's why you weren't out running with the rest of us. You were with him, weren't you?"

"Yeah…" He glanced anxiously at the door to Maroni's, "Listen, Fi, when the boss comes back, do your best not to, you know, provoke him or anything."

"What do you mean when he gets back?! Are you crazy? No way, I'm getting out…" she went for the door handle but the man from before was in her way.

Ryan sighed heavily and dragged his fingers through his hair. "Fiona, look. You can't get out. Nobody is allowed to leave the Restaurant. Boss's orders. You gotta stay."

"Like hell I am!" she hissed at him, "Let me out of here. Come on Ryan, tell this guy to move."

"How do you know her anyway?" the man said, looking at Fiona with a puzzled expression. In return, she gave him the most venomous look she could muster.

"She's Maroni's." He said, watching the door, "She smuggles for them. Like I did."

"What, her? _She_ smuggles for them?"

"Nobody suspects a kid." She piped.

"Will you be quiet? Ryan said, "We weren't actually expecting anyone to run out. What were you doing at Maroni's meeting anyway?"

"I wasn't." She retorted, trying to look inconspicuous as she looked towards the back door of the van, if she was fast enough, she might be able to get out in time, "I was in the back by all the dishes and junk. I wasn't actually at the meeting." She scooted away from the other man, who was listening in on their conversation with interest.

"And _why_ were you back there?" He persisted.

Fiona rolled her eyes and sight exaggeratedly, "I was in trouble, ok? I- well, I got caught." Both of them raised their eyebrows. Fiona felt flustered. "It wasn't my fault! If that cop from before hadn't recognized me-"

The back door of the restaurant banged open in a blur of green and purple.

"Don't talk back and don't do ever do anything to draw attention to yourself." Ryan hissed as he turned over the engine, just before the passenger door unlatched and swung open.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand, boys!" He laughed as he slammed the door shut.

It was precisely three minutes until he noticed her reflection in the passenger side mirror. Immediately, he grinned at her through the mirror and turned around excitedly in his seat.

"Oh!" He said with mocking enthusiasm as he leered over the back of the passenger seat. "Why, if it isn't little red!"

"She came out the back-" The man tried to explain, but was soon cut off.

"I believe I was _talking_ to the _lady_." He growled, drawing out the last syllable and glaring at the man sitting behind Fiona.

"Um." Fiona said unintelligently, "Sorry, they wouldn't let me leave…"

"Leave?!" He cackled, clambering into the back as the van moved quickly through the streets, "Oh I wouldn't dream of it! Why would you ever want to _leave_?!"

Fiona shrugged helplessly and tried to inch away as he leaned in close. He changed his tone.

"Say, I uh, like your sweatshirt. Purple's my favorite color."

"Thanks…" She said, and for whatever reason, perhaps it was nerves, felt compelled to add, "Mine's red."

Nothing could have prepared her for the sudden, roar of laughter she got in reply.

"Of course it is!" He managed between gasping breaths, "Little Red!" The Joker laughed at a sickening pace, a sickening sneer spreading up his sickening face. He continued to cackle madly as he reached forward to take hold of her face. "Ah, Red. You're too serious, you uh, you ought to _smile_ more."

Fiona didn't move, didn't change her expression, she didn't dare.

The Joker leaned in until he was mere inches from her face. He was holding something that looked suspiciously like a potato peeler.

"Come on Red, give me a _nice big smile_." He growled, his voice low in his throat. She smiled so widely that her cheeks burned, and she didn't stop smiling until he gave her a satisfied little pat to the top of her head. He climbed back into the passenger seat, humming loudly as they made their way along. "Da, dada da da daa…"

They were in the warehouse district now, Amusement Mile was visible just across the river. Fiona recognized their location immediately. How many hours had her and Calvin spent down here? Spending hours playing in the maze of brick warehouse buildings, climbing in through broken windows to explore the factories in the dead of night, playing flashlight tag and hiding from security guards… her heart ached when she thought of Cal. Was he wondering where she was? Was he missing her? Was he out looking, as Sam and Nathan had done? She hoped he was alright.

What had this Joker guy been doing at Maroni's restaurant, anyway? Had he killed them? She looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was still humming, moving his arms dramatically as if he were conducting his own personal orchestra.

Ryan parked in an alleyway between the twin Acme corp. buildings. Fiona looked up at the faded lettered sign through the windshield, her face contemplative. Wasn't this the place that had been shut down last year? Something about the factory leaking chemicals into the river, and the environmentalists had been all over it. Picketing and petitioning until the city had shut the whole operation down. She didn't know what happened to it after it was closed down, nor did she really have any kind of interest in these kinds of things. But now she knew, it had become the clown's hide-out. No one would think to look for him in an abandoned toxic place such as this. Even her and Calvin had avoided it, they hadn't wanted to breathe anything in and get sick from it.

"We're here!" He sang darkly, throwing his door open with such force that it banged and bounced loudly off the wall of the building. The man in the back with Fiona slid the door open, and she climbed out. Luckily the Joker was already dancing away toward the side door of the building and entering through it. The man walked in front of her and Ryan behind, it would be difficult to run, and she didn't want to get Ryan in trouble for letting her go.

When she entered the warehouse, her mouth dropped opened in shock, on the far end of the room, a huge pile of money was stacked. It was much taller than her, taller than two or three of her even.

"Holy shit." She said, gazing at the pile in awe. What on earth could this clown be planning that required so much money? Knowing what he'd done so far, she figured it was going to be egregiously extravagant… and deadly.

"Come on," Ryan said, tugging at her arm, "Over here."

The other side of the warehouse was filled with people, all working on various things. Some were crossing back and forth across the bridged hallway that connected the two buildings, wearing gloves and carrying bits of wire and rope. There were a few playing cards, and another couple that were cleaning and loading guns. Fiona guess that there were maybe fifteen or twenty of them altogether, including Ryan and the man from the van.

The Joker immediately climbed the open metal stairs to cross the bridge, distantly she heard him growl, "No, no, no, no! Two groups of twenty and two groups of thirty, can't you _bozo's_ do _anything_ right?"

"Ryan… what is all this?"

He shrugged. Ryan was always the most articulate of souls.

"Headquarters. He has places all over the city, actually; this is just the main one."

"He has _more_ than _one_?" She whispered, her eyebrows shooting halfway up her forehead in surprise.

His lips pressed into a strained little line, restraining himself from answering her. "I don't know," He said finally, keeping his voice low so none would hear him but her, "I don't know what it is he wants with you. He doesn't have any women working for him, let alone little girls…" He trailed off and Fiona felt a sudden sense of foreboding.

"But, what do you think he wants?"

"There's really no way of knowing, not with him." He sighed, and looked down at her, "I've got to get to work, stay out of everybody's way, _especially his_."

Fiona nodded fearfully. "Yeah, yeah, ok." She watched him ascend the stairs and cross over into the next building. Standing awkwardly, she looked around the room.

"Hey! Fi! Come here!"

She turned her head towards the sound of her nickname and was surprised to see the man from the van. She approached him cautiously, watching with a kind of fascinated horror as he cracked his neck and shoulders and then jerked his arm. It seemed like an almost involuntary movement; like he couldn't help it.

"I have a job for you. See these boxes?" He said, his arm jerking again as he gestured toward the boxes on the floor, "Go through each pack and take out the jokers and the jacks, then put them in this box." He tapped an open cardboard box with the toe of his shoe, which was already half full of cards.

"Ok." She said simply, sitting down on the floor. At least she couldn't get into anyone's way now, now that she had something to do. He started to walk away, "Wait!" She called after him.

He turned, his expression puzzled.

"What-what's your name? What do I call you?"

"Melvin." He said curtly, his head jerking and cracking menacingly as he too, climbed the stairs to cross into the next building.

It was easy, monotonous work. The packs had never been opened before, and were still in factory order, so the Joker's and Jack's were the first two cards in every deck She wondered idly where they had gotten all these cards from. Robbed another warehouse or something like that. She couldn't imagine the Joker going out to buy these. She thought of the Star Wars deck in her pocket and smiled. She almost laughed aloud at the thought of tossing the R2D2 jokers into the box with the rest of the clown cards. But she managed to restrain herself, just barely.

As she worked, nobody spoke to her or even acknowledged her presence. It was an hour before she realized that she and one other man were the only ones left in the large warehouse room. Fiona had sorted through two full cardboard boxes of playing card decks, but the one that was supposed to hold all the Jokers was nowhere near full. What were all these cards for anyway? Why did he need so many?

Leaning back to take a break from her task, she fished out her carton of cigarettes and lit it.

"Hey, can I bum a cig?" The other man asked, rising from his seat at the folding card table to approach her. She only had five left, but she gave him one anyway. Fiona did a double take.

"Hey, I know you! Were you at a Thai place in the Narrows a couple nights ago?"

"Yeah, I was." He looked surprised, then his eyes narrowed, "Wait, you were there, weren't you? With that black kid, right?"

Her smile disappeared at the thought of Calvin, "Yeah."

"I'm David."

"Fiona."

"No offense, Fiona, but, what the hell are you doing here?" He said, lighting the cigarette with a flick of his lighter and taking a deep drag.

"They caught me, it was an accident." She wasn't sure which event she was referring to now, she had gotten stuffed into the back of an awful lot of cars lately. "Where'd those other guys go?" She lowered her voice. "_He's_ not still here, is he?"

"No, they went to-" He cut himself off, "They had to go and get something, bosses orders. I was ordered to stay behind. They couldn't take you with them, and they couldn't leave you here alone, so I offered to baby-sit."

"I'm not a baby." She protested from around her cigarette, "I'm thirteen! Almost fourteen!"

"Like I said, babysitting."

Fiona scowled at him.

But in the next few hours that everyone else was gone, he taught her how to blow smoke rings and then went on to try and teach her how to clean and take apart guns. And Fiona shocked him by re-assembling and loading one of the handguns in less than ten seconds. It wasn't that hard, loading the magazine in was the easiest part.

"What, how the hell do you know that?" He said, his eyes wide with shock.

Fiona laughed at his expression, "I used to work for Maroni, I helped prepare guns for transfer and then carried them for delivery."

"What, _you_?"

"Yeah, me!" She said indignantly. "What, you don't believe me?"

"No, it's just, well, you're so… I dunno, little?"

She raised her chin defiantly, "So? That's even better. That's why they chose me. Nobody ever suspects a kid. Not some little girl carrying a violin case, you see?" Fiona left out the part about her being caught by the police, and hoped that Ryan and Melvin would keep their dumb mouths shut about it. If she was going to be forced to be a part of Joker's game, she had to play it safe. Establish her reputation, right? All David knew was that they had brought her back after going to Maroni's restaurant to crash the meeting. He didn't need to know all the specifics.

David chuckled, "Alright, so maybe I underestimated you." He allowed, "You ever fire a gun though?"

"Well, no," She said, then protest, "But I bet it's can't be _that_ hard."

His expression darkened, "It is when you have to pull the trigger on someone."

They were silent for a few moments after that. Until Fiona offered to play cards. David didn't know how, so she whipped out her Star Wars deck and taught him gin rummy. When David went back to work, she built a castle of cards to entertain herself. Later, when she grew tired of her game, she abandoned her castle on the floor in favor of taking a nap. The rest of the men didn't return until late afternoon. When they returned, Fiona was stretched out with her shoes off on the worn-down couch, sleeping. The sound of the door slamming startled her awake, and she quickly shoved her sneakers on and hurried to pick up her card castle. Shoving Calvin's deck back in her pocket, she headed back over to her boxes of cards.

The men had come in through the other building, and only the Joker crossed back over within the next couple hours, casting a cursory glance over the pair of them, David loading magazines and Fiona sorting through cards. She could feel his eyes on her, but she kept her gaze on the task before her, ignoring him. He gave a little huff before crossing back over.

There was an awful lot of noise coming from the other building, rolling and clanking and warnings of, "Hey, be careful with that!" and once, "Put out that goddamned cigarette, you wanna get us all killed?" After that outburst there was a cry of pain and then sudden silence.

The Joker's voice barked out, low and gravely, "Back to work, boys!" He crossed over to their side, blood dripping from the knife in his hand, and continued along the grated metal landing, opening and closing the door marked 'Foreman's Office' with a slam.

She stared after him, and then down to the concrete floor, where the blood had dripped from his knife to spatter in wide droplets across the floor. Now that she looked around, there were little brown spots of dried blood everywhere she looked. Fiona looked to David, "Has he ever hurt you like that?" she whispered.

He raised the ripped sleeve of his leather jacket in reply, there was a deep gash running along his forearm, scabbed and stitched back together with messy black thread. Fiona's mouth formed a little 'o' and she turned her attention back to his face.

"Has he ever killed any of you?" she whispered again, her voice shaking now.

David paused, thinking, and then held up eight fingers, then pressed one of his fingers to his lips, motioning towards the office with a pointed look. Fiona motioned locking her lips and throwing the key away, and he smiled at her.

Lowering her head, she went back to her cards.


End file.
